


If You Want Love

by dcharmaine



Category: choices stories you play, choices: veil of secrets
Genre: Death, F/M, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcharmaine/pseuds/dcharmaine





	1. Monsters

Grant Emerson was the best lawyer in the district. Coming from a family of attorneys, it only made sense that he’d have to be. All he wanted growing up was to follow in his father’s footsteps. Every day he was making his father proud, even if Grant was merely a criminal defense attorney. Samuel’s only wish was that his son would have taken up corporate law instead. It was the most profitable field, after all. Criminal law was where Grant thrived, though, so he couldn’t stay upset at that. As long as Grant was happy, that should be all that mattered. Perhaps if he knew the road that path lead them, Samuel would have put more pressure on his son to work by his side at Emerson, Emerson, & Stone.

  
Grant was taking the long way home, admiring all the scenery Birchport had to offer. He hadn’t seen much of it since his family picked up and left town in the middle of his freshman year of high school. He and his sister had only just moved back seven months prior. The sun was just beginning to set as he waited for the dreadfully long red light to turn green. His phone beeped, signaling a new text message.   
Reaching into the cupholder next to the steering wheel, he picked up his phone. Another message came through, lighting the screen briefly and allowing Grant to get a glimpse of his girlfriend smiling as she posed with a tall glass of white wine. He chuckled. He hadn’t even returned home and Kate was already drinking without him. He unlocked his phone to view the previous message.

_“Glass of scotch with your name on it when you get home!”_  
Another came through.  
 _“Hurry home or I’m gonna finish your glass for you.”_

  
Grant was about to respond when an unsaved number popped up onto his screen.

  
“Hey, B!” He grinned. “What—”  
“Grant!” The voice on the other end of the line screamed into his ear. “Grant, help!”  
“Bri, what’s wrong?” Grant felt a slight breeze hit his face as he gripped the steering wheel so tight his fingers should’ve hurt. Too distracted by the fear in her voice, he didn’t feel a thing. “What happened?”  
“He’s going to kill me!” She yelled. “I need you.”  
“I’m coming!” Ignoring the traffic light, which still hadn’t changed colors, Grant stomped on the gas and made a U-turn. He was desperate to get to her house before it was too late. “Bria, just hide. I’m on my way.”  
“Grant,” she was whispering now. Between her uneven breathing and quiet sniffling, Grant could tell Bria was crying. “I’m scared. Please, hurry.”  
A loud banging sound could be heard and then Bria screamed again. Buildings and cars blurred away as he sped to her rescue. Suddenly, the line went dead. Grant’s heart sank in his chest. Bria couldn’t die, she just couldn’t. Not like this.

Sooner than he thought, he arrived to Bria’s brick home. Without even remembering to remove his keys from the ignition, Grant hopped out of his red convertible with the engine still running. As fast as his feet would carry him, he made his way to the front door. I was left ajar. Though his heart was suddenly pounding so hard he felt like it would jump straight out of his chest, he was relieved that at least he didn’t have to worry about breaking the door down. Mind racing, he didn’t know whether he should try to be stealthy or just barge in there.

  
“You don’t have time for this.” Grant muttered to himself, pushing the white door wide open and roaming through the dark room. “Get your shit together.”

The house was silent aside from his shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. There was no sign of life anywhere. The entire main floor was a mess. In the kitchen, broken plates were scattered across the floor. Following the trail of broken glass, Grant found himself in the living room where a large lamp had fallen over in the struggle. The lightbulb was still in tact, the light shining toward the staircase. He followed it. That had to be a sign, right? Taking a deep breath, Grant tried to mentally prepare himself for what he might find upstairs. A blood trail with no body? Bria’s lifeless body? No, he couldn’t let his mind go there. Shaking away all bad thoughts from his head, he reminded himself to just keep walking. If he could just make his feet go faster, Bria would be okay.

  
“Miss Holliday?” An unfamiliar male voice called out. “I know you’re in there. We need to talk!”

  
Tracking the man’s voice to a room Grant was shocked he’d never noticed before, he squeezed his hands into the tightest fists he could form. It was the only thing that could keep them from shaking once he confronted the intruder. Grant’s loud footsteps stopped behind the stranger.

“What the—” The man turned around, chuckling only when he recognizes Grant’s face. He had slightly tanned skin, black hair slicked back, a goatee, and wore a grey suit with a black shirt. While his taste in clothing read as impeccably clean, his vibe was dangerous. Just being this close to him made Grant quiver with fear. “Ah, yes. The errand boy. Go home. This doesn’t concern you.”

Errand boy? Grant cleared his throat. That wasn’t what he should be concerned with. He should stay on task. As much as Grant wished he could obey the man and leave, he couldn’t in good conscience do so if Bria would still be at risk.

“Who the hell are you?” Grant crossed his arms, trying to look as intimidating as possible. In reality, however, he had no idea what intimidating another man was supposed to look like. It was never something he’d ever cared to do before this moment. He was starting to wish he’d thought to ask for backup instead of entering a dangerous situation with no contingency plan in place. Of course, he couldn’t do that, or his secret would be discovered. The man’s silence was tugging at Grant’s nerves. Why did he have to make it so hard? And if he was just going to keep ignoring the question, Grant would just have to settle for referring to him as something so plain and unoriginal as Goatee. “I won’t ask you again, Goatee.”

The man’s eyes roamed along Grant’s body, from his furrowed eyebrows to his unflinching gaze to the tightly folded arms to the way Grant was constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.   
He doubled over, deep laughter rumbling out of him.

“Oh, man!” He clutched his stomach as he returned his posture upright. “You almost had me going for a moment there!”  
Grant was about to take a step forward until Bria spoke.  
“Grant?” Her voice was soft, almost inaudible through the closed door. “Is that you?”  
“Yeah, it’s me!” He released a sigh of relief. Grant had been terrified that when he finally got to Bria she would be dead. But now that he knew the truth all he wanted was to get the bastard standing before him away from her. “Thank God you’re safe!”  
“Safe? Is that why you’re here?” The man laughed again. “You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?”

Grant wanted to open his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t convince himself to do so.

“Alright, boy, have at it.” Goatee spread his arms out wide as Bria opened the heavy door just a crack. The room was pitch black. How could she even see in there all that time? He could barely even make out her face. Grant didn’t move. “DO IT! NOW!”  
Grant had rushed all this way for this very moment. He needed to protect Bria, defend her when she was too weak to defend herself. How could he though? His eyes darted to Bria, who had been watching desperately for some kind of indication to how this exchange would pan out.

“No, wait.” Grant closed his eyes, hoping Bria wouldn’t kill him later for backing out. When he opened them again, Goatee seemed troubled. Grant took that as an opening to try to sway him even though panic took over every inch of him just gazing into Goatee’s cold eyes. “Nobody has to get hurt here. Just leave.”

“I respect you coming here to protect your girlfriend.” Goatee nodded. His eyes more intense than their default state. “It was brave of you.”

“Th-thank you.” Grant cleared his throat. He was relieved there wouldn’t be any confrontation after all. “I’m pleased we’re able to work this out.”  
Goatee’s grin was unnerving. Grant had never been this close to someone whose smile could reach their murderous eyes.  
“Not quite.”  
Grant froze.  
“A wise king once said he was only brave when he had to be.” He began to peel off his crisp suit jacket. “I’m afraid you didn’t have to be. You should’ve walked away when you had the chance, boy.”  
“Don’t do this!” Grant, backing away pleaded for his life. It shouldn’t end like this. Looking around for a weapon was pointless. Just blank walls and an unfilled hallway. “We can talk this out!”  
“The time for talking never existed.” He inched closer to Grant, rolling up his long sleeves. “Only one of us makes it out of here alive. I think we both know that’s going to be me.”  
“No…” Grant searched for Bria’s face. She was now standing outside of the room. Her hand covered her mouth. What was she thinking? She shouldn’t be there. If he turned around Goatee would see her! It wasn’t safe. Grant needed to provide a distraction so that Bria could get away. She’d be dead otherwise.

Panicking, Grant’s hand did all the thinking for him. His fist collided with the man’s strong jaw. They were both shocked that Grant had it in him. His eyes caught a glimpse of Bria in the background. Was she really smiling at a time like this? No, she couldn’t be.  
For every step that Goatee took toward Grant, Grant took two steps back.

“I thought you were finally getting it.” Goatee sighed, disappointed that Grant was so weak. It took all the fun out of the fight. “Man up and fight me, boy!”

Finally, Grant’s back hit the railing of the staircase. There was still no sign of a potential weapon for Grant to use and there was nowhere left to go without leaving Bria alone with her attacker. Goatee grabbed Grant by the collar, lifting him up into the air. His feet dangled loosely just 5 inches above the ground. Goatee began to whisper in Grant’s ear.

“It would be so easy to throw you over the edge right now and watch you go splat.” He sneered at Grant. He was clearly still disgusted that the person Bria handpicked to end his life wouldn’t fight back. “But you don’t even know what, or who, you’re fighting for. The least I can do before I kill you is make sure you die knowing the truth. At least then, it won’t be in vain.”  
Just like that he released Grant from his grip. A huge part of Grant thought for sure Goatee was playing some sinister joke on him. Part of him was also so foolish to believe the claims of a killer. Grant didn’t know which part of himself to believe. Surely he couldn’t trust this man, so he did what he assumed any reasonable person would do in his situation. Grant punched him in the stomach, making Goatee clutch it.

“Son of a bitch,” he laughed genuinely this time. “That one actually hurt me!”

Oddly enough, that one reaction gave Grant a sense of pride he knew he shouldn’t have. One that he knew wouldn’t have the chance to last. One way or another, this was the day that Grant Emerson would die. Nothing in his life would ever remain the same as it had always been. He tried to punch Goatee again, but he caught Grant’s fist before it could crash into him again. He’d already afforded Grant as many freebie shots as he cared to give him. 

Before Grant could even think of blinking, Goatee was already delivering blow after blow careful enough to avoid Grant’s face. He felt that sparing his punching bag’s face was the very least he could do. Grant’s arms crossed against his chest forming an x. He had no idea what it would actually do, but he’d hoped it would take some of the pain away. It didn’t. The two men floated across the room as Grant attempted to flee his opponent’s deadly jabs. His entire body ached and all he wanted was to escape. This was it for him. This would be Grant’s demise. There would be no walking away from this house. 

Ready to accept defeat, Grant closed his eyes. He mentally said his goodbyes to everything he cared about. Goodbye to his beautiful blue Camaro convertible. Goodbye to the ongoing golf tournament he was currently beating all his friends in. Goodbye to his family and his friends. Goodbye to that damn puppy he’d just adopted, who just couldn’t seem to stop relieving herself inside Grant’s shoes. Goodbye to Kate. Wait, no. Not Kate. He couldn’t bare to leave Kate alone. Not like this. They’d just moved in together a couple months prior. She couldn’t find out he’d been cheating on her, especially not by the rumors of his death’s circumstances flying around Birchport. How would Kate ever survive that kind of humiliation? Grant would never do anything to hurt Kate! At least that was what he’d always told himself each time he’d betrayed her trust.

As Grant’s eyes shot open he pushed his assailant away with all the force he could summon. He needed to continue to fight. Not just for himself or for Bria, but for Kate. She needed him. Goatee fell backward, losing his normal sense of balance. He tripped over his own feet until they sent him tumbling down the 20 foot long staircase. 

“Timber.” He said calmly and nodded. He didn’t panic or shout for help steadying himself. When you’re in the crime business, you have to be prepared to die at any moment. Death was never something he’d feared. Though death by stairs would be a tough blow to his reputation, Goatee welcomed it. His body hit the stair landing. Grant half expected to hear some pained shuffling at the bottom of the stairs, but it never came. Why wasn’t he making a sound? Grant sucked a breath in and peeked down the stairs. The man’s body was motionless. No sign of life.  
“No!” Grant whisper-shouted to himself. “He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. I can’t be a killer!”  
He watched for a change that just wouldn’t come.

“Please get up, please! Don’t be…” Grant blinked back a series of tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he yelled down to the first floor. Was he really pleading life for the man who was going to kill him? “Don’t do this to me, you selfish asshole! You wanted me to fight back, now get up!”  
Nothing.

Grant felt his only remaining option was to check Goatee’s pulse. He could swear he heard his own heart hammering in his chest while he descended the stairs.

“Breathe,” he coached himself. Otherwise he might just forget and pass out right on top of the unconscious man just a few feet away. “In, two, three, four. Out—”  
“Is he…” Bria cried out with shaky breaths. “Is he dead?”  
“…two, three, four.” Grant couldn’t focus on more than one thing at a time. He shook her voice out of his head and just focused on his breathing. “In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.”  
“Grant?” she trembled but still he did not respond. “Grant, answer me dammit!”  
Nothing was taking Grant’s mind off of the task at hand, which was making it out of this in one piece. Quite frankly, he didn’t need Bria’s whining at that moment. If he could keep crying to the bare minimum, so could she. He was the one doing all the fighting, after all, and he wouldn’t have been there if not for Bria’s panicked phone call.

Finally he reached the bottom of the stairs. Grant crouched down next to Goatee. Grant reached two fingers out felt his neck for a pulse. Nothing.  
“Oh God!” Grant’s voice echoed against the walls. He jumped back perching himself up on one of the steps. The tears he’d been holding back ran down his cheeks.  
“Nope,” Goatee slowly opened his eyes and turned his head toward Grant. “I’m no god, but I am still kickin’ so you can stop being dramatic now.”

Terror coursed through Grant’s body again. Suddenly looking into the hollow that Goatee must have considered his soul, Grant finally realized that this man wasn’t afraid to die. Not because he had a death wish, but because he was simply unkillable.   
Grant remembered Goatee’s words from earlier and saw the truth in them. Grant really wasn’t going to survive the night in one piece. Death at Goatee’s hands was inevitable. Nothing and no one could stop it.  
Grant disappeared as fast as he could back up the stairs and down the familiar path to Bria’s bedroom. She also fled, but her path was back into her panic room. Goatee didn’t care about hurting her though. He couldn’t. He took off, as quickly as he could, after Grant.

“Hey kid?” Goatee called out to Grant and dragged his hand along the wall. He let his tiny fingernails tap against each door he passed. He was already halfway to the bedroom. “I really am sorry that I have to kill you. As hard as it is to believe, I actually like you. You’re a fun kill. I’ve never had ‘rich golden boy’ before.” 

Grant searched the bedroom frantically for any kind of weapon he could use to take Goatee down a notch. He stumbled his way into the adjoined bathroom, nearly crashing his head into the door frame. Grant rummaged through the drawers and cabinets to find something hard or potentially hazardous. Unfortunately, there truly was nothing. Didn’t most women at least have a curling iron in their bathrooms? The only one being taken down a notch was Grant. He might have already been defeated, but he couldn’t give up hope that he might find a weapon.

“Oh, Graaant!” Goatee warned him that he was on the way. He sounded as if he was waiting just outside the bedroom. Goatee might’ve been a killer, but at least he was a generous murderer by allowing his opponent the opportunity to find a weapon to defend himself.  
Grant hurried back into the bedroom and decided to check Bria’s desk one last time.

“Ooh,” Goatee’s voice was clearer than ever as he stood behind Grant, who’d blatantly jumped out of his own skin. “Too late.”

Grant turned to face him, but realized this man was superior to him in every way. He was at least five inches taller than Grant was, he had far more toned muscle as Grant could see the outline of his muscles through his dress shirt, and clearly he was stronger. If Grant was smart, and he definitely was, he sure as hell wasn’t going to underestimate Goatee.

“Y-you said you like me.” Grant’s hands felt around the items on the desk behind his back. “You don’t have to kill me. You could just let me go. Bria too.”  
“You’ve seen my face.” Goatee shook his head. “You could easily point me out to any of our enemies if they found you. It would just create a blood bath for the boss and for Stone Haven. Birchport’s only a town away and I’d have to come back to kill you anyway for opening your damn mouth and causing all this trouble.”

“I won’t talk!” Grant finally felt something that wasn’t paper thin. A mirror? Really? Would that actually leave enough of an impact on him? A shot glass? No, not big enough. Goatee would just catch his hand before getting hit. Moving his hand further left, it landed on a tall glass bottle. Yes, that was the one. That was his weapon. “I swear on my girlfriend’s life, I won’t!”  
The words tasted like vinegar coming out of his mouth. Why would he say that?

“Which one?” Goatee smirked. Grant was shocked that this total stranger knew his secret. “Oh, please. Of course we know!”  
We? Who was we?  
“In due time.” Goatee took another step forward. They were now just inches from touching. “You’re not dying right this second. I recall promising you information.”

It was a trap. Grant had to react! He smashed the bottle over Goatee’s head. He fell down clutching his head while Grant ran away. He headed for the stairs, crashing into the walls every time he made a sharp turn. It was slowing him down tremendously. He’d nearly made it back to the kitchen when he felt himself being tackled down to the ground. The collision sent his arms and hands scraping along the broken glass on the floor.

“You just had to go and do something stupid like run!” Goatee yelled and slammed his fist into Grant’s chest. “Stay. Still.”  
His hair had come out of place. He had to brush it out of his face as he closed his eyes and calmed his nerves. He was pinning Grant down by the throat.

“Now, I—”Just as he was opening his eyes again and about to remove his hand from Grant’s throat, Grant stabbed him in the heart with a thick shard from a shattered plate. Both their blood drizzled down Grant’s hand. He stared at it in horror. He might’ve just killed a man. There’d be no coming back from there.

They were still face to face as Goatee’s mouth fell open. Even through the pain, he was trying to tell Grant the truth he’d promised him.  
“Hhhh—” Goatee blinked slowly. “Hun… ter… Holliday…”  
Hunter Holliday? The crime lord? For the life of him, Grant couldn’t figure out why Goatee was telling him about Stone Haven’s most dangerous criminal.  
“Bria… Birchport police…” The more he spoke, the more his chest ached from the glass shard sticking inside of him. He eased himself down on top of Grant and rolled off of him so that he would lie on his back. The strain of keeping himself propped up was no longer there, but for the first time in his adult life Goatee knew what death must feel like. It was almost unbearable, but after all the bad he’s done outside of Birchport, he felt this was precisely what he deserved. “Daughter.”

“What?” Grant shook him. “You’re not making any sense!”  
“Holliday… daughter… Bria…” Goatee’s eyes slowly began to close.  
“No!” Grant shook him again. “Stay with me! I need to know!”  
“Tired.” Goatee’s head fell limp as he slipped out of consciousness.

“Grant Emerson…” A man’s voice called out to him from the shadows. That voice… He knew the voice but he couldn’t place it. The man stepped into the light. His head was bald and he wore a police uniform. “Well done.”  
“Tommy Walsh, you bastard.” Grant threw himself onto his feet, fuming at the Chief. “What the hell are you doing here?”  
“I always knew you were a thug.” Walsh smiled, pleased with himself. “It was just a matter of time.”  
“What, did you set this up?” Grant approached the good for nothing human garbage dumpster. “Just to nail me?”  
“Oh, no!” Walsh snickered. “That was all Miss Holliday. She wants the spot Mr. Cantarella, here, holds in her daddy’s inner circle. He signs my paycheck, so who am I to say no? Which reminds me. You’re under arrest. Murder. First degree.”

Walsh stepped closer to Grant.

“What?!” He couldn’t get arrested! All he did was protect his secret girlfriend. This wasn’t fair! Grant yanked a wooden picture frame off the wall and threw it at Walsh. It hit him in the left eye. “This wasn’t premeditated!”  
“Ouch! What the hell’s wrong with you, Emerson? Do you really want to add assault of a police officer with a deadly weapon to the list of charges?” Walsh grimaced, removing his handcuffs from his belt. His face hurt like hell, but he’d always dreamed of arresting an Emerson. His wish was finally coming true. “And I’m pretty sure I can manufacture evidence to make it look like you had a vendetta. _Don’t._ Push me. You’re done in this town.”

As Walsh slapped the cuffs onto Grant’s wrists, Bria bounced down the stairs and rounded the corner. She smiled at the scene. Grant’s heart dropped at the sight. He’d hoped Chief Walsh was lying.  
“Babe, aren’t you excited? You’re in bed with us now.” Bria ran up to them and planted a soft kiss on Grant’s lips. “Officially.”

Just then, Grant woke up. His empty eyes flashed open and stared up at what used to be a blank ceiling. Now, he had a picture of Kate O’Malley staring him in the face. Every night and every day, he had the same memory replaying in his dreams. Kate, Bria, the man with the Goatee, Walsh. It was all real. In fact, it had happened three years ago. Having this dream every time he shut his eyes used to make him scream and sweat bullets when he woke. Now, he feels nothing. No more guilt or shame. No more wondering what if. No more anticipating when Bria would come back to haunt him. So far she’s been quiet.

The only reason Grant wasn’t doing major time in prison was because his father swooped in and bribed Walsh to keep the arrest under the radar. At least, that was the case until Samuel Emerson died mysteriously just months later. Nobody knew what truly happened, but Grant’s mother blamed him. As did Scarlett, but she would never admit it to him. Whenever Scarlett needed him on her side, he was with no questions asked. Now it was her chance to repay the favor. 

Kate left him two years ago, but Grant? He intends to get her back. He’ll stop at nothing to reclaim what he’s lost. Tonight was Kate’s birthday and it was about time he finally made an appearance in her life again. Grant reached across his bedside table for the note and ring he found on his pillow when she moved out of his mansion and out of his life.

> _“Grant,_   
>  _I’ve rewritten this note a million times over, but there’s just no easy way to say this. I’ve tried to find the words but nothing I say, or how or when I say it, seems to work. So here it is. I need to let you go. You’re going through something, and whatever it is has been eating you up inside. It’s been killing me to not be able to help you, or even know what happened to you. You have to know I love you, but I love me too. Grant… I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to keep living with a ghost. This is no way for either of us to live._   
>  _Maybe someday we can find our way back to each other._   
>  _-Kate.”_


	2. A Birthday Surprise

Grant was sitting in his car just outside of Kate’s bakery, Tasty Pastry. It was the same as he‘d done every day for the last two years. He watched as she opened the shop, interacted with customers, hosted cake tastings for what he imagined were weddings—God, he wanted to marry that woman—and he took it all in until she closed up the shop. His personal assistant barely even knew whether he was actually alive anymore because he stopped checking in with anything she could aid him in. It was rare that Grant would actually go home anymore, so even Scarlett was worried about him. At least a dozen times over the last three years, she’d organized interventions to try and get her brother back. If there was anything Scarlett hated, it was touchy-feely gatherings. But Grant didn’t, or at least he didn’t used to. He just wished everyone would leave him alone to do whatever it was he wanted. And what he wanted was to lure Kate back in. He couldn’t push her out of his mind. He needed her too much, craved her.

  
Even just sitting in his car, he could smell that perfume she always used to wear. Grant closed his eyes and tried to picture Kate sitting next to him. Her sweet vanilla scent made him melt into his seat. She smiled up at him and reached her hand out, caressing his face. He tried to rest his hand atop of Kate’s to hold her there. The only thing he managed to do was hold his own cheek. Kate shook her head, fading away with teary eyes staring into his. Grant opened his eyes, slowly removing his hand from his face.

  
“Don’t worry, Katherine.” Grant sighed. “We will be together again soon. I promise.”

  
Across the street, Grant could see that Kate was locking the doors to the bakery. All of the lights were turned off and chairs lying seat down on top of the tables. It was too early. He glanced down at the digital clock on his GPS display screen. Five-thirty. Kate didn’t usually close up for the night until nine o’clock. His eyes trailed down the sidewalk, studying Kate’s every move. Kate flipped her hair back and out of her eyes. Her long red locks bounced with every step she took. She appeared to be sad, if Grant was reading her face correctly. Or was she just squinting from the bright headlights of a passing truck shining in her eyes? Either way, Grant couldn’t stay parked there forever. Kate was on the move and, fortunately for him, so was he. Grant’s car roared to life as he turned the key in the ignition. He waited ten seconds after she drove away before he began to follow her.  
Instead of going home like Grant expected, Kate led Grant straight to her brother Flynn’s house. She got out of her car, shut the door, clicked the lock button on her key, and headed for the front door. She unlocked and pushed the door open. Taking aa step forward, she stopped in her tracks. Kate turned, looking around as if she felt something or someone about to approach. She didn’t see anything, so proceeded to enter the house. Watching Kate cautiously close the door behind her made Grant feel like he was losing her all over again. Grant had no eyes inside of Flynn’s house. As much as he wanted to hop out of his car and peek in through the windows, even an obsessed Grant wasn’t stupid enough to step within ten feet of Flynn O’Malley’s home. If he got caught, there was no question that Flynn would kill him for sticking his nose where it no longer belonged. He had no idea what Kate was up to in there, but he wished he was with her.

  
Once inside, Kate glanced around the interior with a smile painted on her face. It was nothing special, but more than you’d expect from a bad boy. As soon as she walked in the walls were decorated with picture frames with the original generic family photos inside. He liked to joke that someday maybe he’d replace them with his own family’s pictures. The concept was always rather silly to him, that he’d find someone he actually wanted to fill the void of those frames. Birchport certainly wasn’t somewhere he wanted to settle down, but it was home. He wouldn’t dare leave his sister behind.  
Kate laughed to herself, moving along. She found herself in the living room. Biting down on her bottom lip, she looked around for prying eyes. Not that Flynn had roommates, but she couldn’t be too careful. With her luck, she probably chose the one day Flynn decided he didn’t feel like dealing with the idiots he was forced to call his coworkers.

  
“Hey, Flynn?” Kate had to make sure she really had the house to herself. “You home?”

  
There was no answer. She squealed as she ran to the black couch next to the window. Kate lifted the left half’s leather cushions and pulled from underneath the seat a worn copy of Maria Red and the Pirate Prince. That was always her favorite book as a child. In fact, this was the exact copy that Flynn would read her as a little girl. She recognized the small purple butterfly she’d once doodled on the first title page. Kate traced the butterfly with her index finger. Flynn had no idea that Kate was aware he had the book in his possession. She was almost certain that if he’d known, Flynn would stop being so lousy at hiding his sentimental keepsakes. Pushing the cushion back into place, Kate curled up onto the couch reading it to herself.  
Once finished reading, she grinned to herself. Kate missed being able to just forget about her responsibilities for a little while to sneak away and read. It relaxed her, eased her tension. Sitting there in Flynn’s house always made her feel safe. And so that’s what she did for the rest of the free hour she had before needing to head home. No expectations, no responsibilities, and certainly no more strange cars that seemed to teleport to her locations. Kate wasn’t sure what, but something about Birchport felt uncomfortable lately. She wanted nothing more than to simply forget and hope that feeling went away on its own.

  
Sighing, she headed home. It was nearly seven o’clock and she needed to get changed. Kate was relieved that she was only meeting her friends at Shipwreck Sally’s for drinks to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday. At least she didn’t have to agonize over what to wear this year. Fancy was always great before, but after tending to demanding clients at the bakery all day a lowkey outing felt perfect.

  
After showering and brushing her teeth again, Kate slipped on a red strappy fit and flare dress she hadn’t worn in years. Before putting on her shoes and purse, Kate curled her hair. For one long minute, Kate examined her reflection in the mirror. Absentmindedly, she painted her face with a light layer of makeup. Was going out tonight really the right call? She just couldn’t set aside that nagging feeling that something in her life was out of place. Kate had her dream job, great friends, and an amazing brother yet she still felt she was missing something.

  
As she strutted toward the front door, there was a rushed knock. Looking through the peephole was a dead end for her, as the doorway was clear. Every horror movie she’d ever watched told her it was a bad idea to open the door, but she did it anyway. Kate cautiously opened the door. Still, nobody was there. As she stepped outside to look down the hallway she heard the crinkling sound of plastic underneath her foot. She knelt down to pick up a vibrant bouquet of red and white roses. The hallway felt abandoned. Who would deliver flowers but not give Kate the opportunity to either accept or deny them? She carried them outside, reading the printed note to herself. “I will always love you.” The message was signed anonymous.  
“Sure, that’s not alarming at all.” Kate sighed while removing the flowers from their plastic sleeve. She dropped them onto the ground, making sure to throw the plastic away as she passed a garbage bin on her way to her car.

  
Once she’d arrived to the bar she thought that she’d feel better. She didn’t. Somehow she felt worse. Nothing felt right, but she set out to locate her friends, Amy and Chelsea, anyway. Before she could step foot inside, she noticed a shiny black car pulling into the parking lot. The windows were too tinted to see inside, especially from so far away. It stood out because it looked so much more expensive than all the rest of the cars. Something felt familiar about it, though she couldn’t seem to figure out why.

  
Kate told herself she was merely being paranoid and should just enjoy her night. So that was what she did. Suddenly sitting at the bar, Amy waved Kate over. All her inexplicable worries would just have to wait for later. This was Kate’s night, and she was not about to ruin the mood by wallowing in some sensation even she didn’t really even recognize as valid. Kate strutted to the bar, hugging her friends once she got there.

  
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Her friends shouted in unison. Chelsea handed Kate a shot of tequila she wasn’t entirely sure she actually wanted. The one thing that made since to her in that moment was that she needed to pace herself and not get too drunk just in case she’d been justified all along in feeling so wary. Kate threw the shot back in one swallow and then placed the small glass down onto the bar’s wooden surface. She sat down, ordered herself a strawberry daiquiri before her friends could get her more shots, and hoped her friends wouldn’t notice her unusual change of routine. Kate loved a good daiquiri, but she never drank it at night.

  
The bartender pushed Kate’s large glass in front of her, holding onto the glass until she caught Kate’s attention.  
“Happy birthday, Kate.” She grinned and leaned down resting her elbows, her light brown hair framing her rosy cheeks. “We’ve missed you around here.”

  
“Thanks Sarah,” Kate flashed her signature smile at the woman. She reached for her drink and her hand grazed Sarah’s. The two locked eyes as Kate dragged her drink closer to her. She hadn’t seen Sarah in months. Sarah always seemed to disappear every time they got closer. That wasn’t exactly her fault though. Life always seemed to get in the way. “I’ve missed you, too.”  
Sarah began to lean in closer to speak so only Kate could hear when suddenly an angry man’s voice boomed from behind her.  
“Sarah, we need you! Back to work!” His voice held a hint of annoyance. He immediately stomped off to his office.  
Sarah ignored him, turning back to Kate. They continued to talk for another hour and Kate was on her second, and last, daiquiri. Technically, it was still the first. She’d barely touched her previous drink because she forgot it was even there. Sarah tended to have that affect on her sometimes. Sarah had dumped and replaced it so Kate would have a fresh cocktail. The same frustrated voice was shouting again.  
“Where the fuck is Sarah?!” A door slammed nearby. “Every single time! I just can’t get a break!”  
“You should get back to work.” Kate giggled. Sarah always ended up neglecting the other customers when Kate showed up. Tonight, though, the place was more packed than usual  
“Fine.” Sarah smirked. “But we’re continuing this discussion later.”  
“Deal, now go.” Kate gestured to the other side of the bar, where impatient customers were yelling for refills.  
Sarah cut her eyes in their direction and began walking away.  
“If you people don’t shut the hell up, you’re not getting anything any time soon!”  
“Good luck!” Kate called after her.  
“I don’t need it!” Sarah waved her hand in the air.  
“Oh, I know.” Kate beamed. “I was talking to them!”

  
For a moment, Kate forgot. The strange cars, the bouquet of roses… For a brief moment, none of it existed. Kate took a small sip of her daiquiri, the flavors bursting against her tongue. It was exactly what she’d been waiting all evening for. She turned to her right, where she expected to see her friends sitting. They were gone. Kate looked around the bar. Nothing. Picking her daiquiri back up, she went to search for Amy and Chelsea. Her eyes scanned every inch of the room, wandering aimlessly through the crowd. She wasn’t watching where she was going and collided with a firm body in front of her. The strawberry daiquiri in her grip spilled all over her hand and the person’s shirt.

  
“Shit, sorry!” Kate eyeballed the mess she’d just made. That was when it hit her. A rather unforgettable scent travelled to her nose. “Oh…”

  
Kate was almost afraid to look up at the person she’d stumbled into. She knew who the scent belonged to. It was her favorite of his colognes when they were together. He always knew that and would wear it every time he took her on a date.

  
“Grant…” Kate gazed up at him, unsure whether she wanted to smile and hug him or just keep walking. “Hey.”  
“It’s great to see you, Kate.” He beamed down at Kate’s shocked face and wrapped her up in his strong arms. “Happy birthday.”  
“Thanks.” She was confused, but grinned anyway. What was Grant even doing on this side of town? Shipwreck Sally’s certainly was never a place Grant frequented.  
“I was just in the neighborhood on business, and thought to myself…” Grant pulled away from Kate. “…I should come wish Kate a happy birthday. And I took a chance on this place. You always did love coming here. And here you are.”  
“Here I am.” Kate nodded, glancing at the liquid stain on his blue button-up shirt. Kate always loved blue on him. Right in this moment, though, she felt nothing for him. “Listen, you should go clean that up.”  
“Clean what up?” Grant asked before following Kate’s eyes. “Oh! Right… I should…” He furrowed his eyebrows. This night wasn’t going as he expected it would. “I’ll just go now.”  
“Bathroom’s that way.” Kate pointed toward the far right corner. She watched as Grant hesitantly left. Right then she saw her friends sitting at a small table just a few feet to her left. She hurried over to them.  
“What happened to you two?” Kate slammed the nearly empty glass onto the table, wiped her hand with a spare napkin, and then crossed her arms.  
“Oh, hey!” Amy squealed. “How’d it go?”  
“It probably could’ve gone much better, honestly.”  
“Oh no!” Amy frowned. “What happened? It looked like you two were just about to hit it off.”  
“What? No!” Kate shook her head. “Who are you referring to?”  
“Cute bartender Sarah! We saw you talking to her, that’s why we left!” Amy studied Kate. “Wait, who are you thinking about?”  
“Grant.” She rubbed her temples. “He just showed up and my drink spilled all over him.”  
“Good!” Amy shrugged, taking note of Kate’s inquisitive glance. “I’ve never liked him, you know. Trust me you can do so much better than…” Amy’s eyes darted just to Kate’s left. “…Grant!”  
“He’s—” Kate was going to say Grant’s not that bad. Amy interrupted before she could get another syllable out.  
“Right behind you?” Amy nodded when she saw Kate’s face twisting in confusion. She counted down the seconds until he’d stop walking and arrive at their table. “…four, three, two—"  
“Kate, hi!” Grant smiled as he reappeared at Kate’s side. His complete focus was on Kate. He didn’t even acknowledge that she was sitting with friends. The daiquiri stain on his shirt looked the same as before. It was almost as if he hadn’t even attempted to clean himself up.  
Amy inspected him suspiciously. Something seemed odd about him, though she couldn’t tell what it was. All she knew was that he was different.  
“May I borrow you for a moment, Katie?” Grant chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, ‘Kate.’”  
Just behind him, Amy was shaking her head while Chelsea simply watched the three to see whose side Kate would take. She would’ve put money on Kate going home with Grant. Though she was capable of doing so, Kate didn’t reject Grant often or really at all.  
“Actually, I should be going now.” Kate glanced from Grant to her friends. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I love you!”

  
Kate walked around the table to hug her friends goodbye. Grant dropped his head, pretending to suddenly be interested in smoothing his shirt down. In reality he just didn’t want anyone to see him clenching his jaw in an attempt not to frown. Re-entering Kate’s life was going to be harder than he’d assumed.

“Can I at least walk you out?” He remained hopeful.  
“Sure,” Kate responded after a few seconds of hesitation. “I don’t see why not.”

  
Amy and Chelsea watched Grant breathe a sigh of relief. As Kate walked off with Grant, Amy followed behind. She stopped at the door and watched over Kate from afar. Grant’s new energy was frustrating her and she’d be damned if she just ignored that nagging feeling tugging at her mind.  
Grant and Kate reached her car, but Amy refused to abandon her post until Kate was away from her ex-boyfriend. Suddenly, both Kate and Grant looked in her direction. Amy waved, assuming it wasn’t too dark or too far away to determine that she was, in fact, the person watching them. Kate waved back underneath the spotlight the streetlight next to her car seemed to lend her. Kate drove away cautiously, and Grant didn’t even seem to notice. He continued to stare Amy down through the distance, but she was unfazed by it. She wasn’t going to let Grant hurt Kate again. Not if she could help it.

  
“I’m gonna figure you out, you bastard.” Amy smirked and crossed her arms. With Kate finally gone safe and sound, Amy rejoined Chelsea at their small table. She felt rejuvenated with her new mission brewing in her mind. One way or another, Amy Clarke was determined to take Grant down the moment he stepped out of line.


	3. Every Rose Has Its Thorn

For the first time in weeks, Grant found himself hunched over a large pile of case files in his office at work. It had occurred to him that he needed to keep up appearances if he didn’t want anybody asking questions he couldn’t answer without incriminating himself. He couldn’t afford to explain to anybody where he’s been hiding or what he’s been up to. How could he even attempt to? Nobody would understand if they knew how Grant was choosing to spend his days.

  
Melissa, Grant’s assistant, paced quickly in and out of his office. She barely stopped walking as she dropped a small square unmarked envelope onto his desk.

 

  
“What’s this?” Grant spoke for the first time that day. 

“I don’t know,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t even turn to look at him before she leaped through the door frame. “Maybe if you actually _opened_ it you’d find out.”

In his old life, that statement would’ve taken Grant by surprise. Perhaps he’d even get upset that his employee would dare use such a tone with him. He’d feel hurt and disrespected at her unprovoked attitude. Today, though, Grant didn’t care enough to react. 

An entire week had passed since he’d last seen or heard from Kate. He needed to figure out his next move, but he was coming up empty. How could he ‘accidentally’ bump into her again without giving his position away? In a town as small as Birchport, sure, it should have been possible. Kate knew everything about Grant though, or at least she knew everything about the person he used to be before his entire life had to change. She knew the places he wouldn’t go, the people he wouldn’t associate himself with if he had any other choice, and she knew the things he loved and the things he didn’t. Most importantly, Kate knew Grant’s soul. She would know the difference if anything about his demeanor seemed to have evolved. If he was going to do this, and he was, he needed to make sure nothing that could go wrong would ever have the chance to.

He was so deep in thought he hadn’t actually realized that he’d been opening the envelope Melissa had thrown onto his desk. Until the thin paper sliced through the tip of his thumb, that is. He closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath, squeezing his hand into a fist with his thumb tucked inside. For once, he didn’t think of anyone or anything. Grant simply sat and watched as his vision faded into a black void he’d come to know as normal. He cleared the temporary discomfort from his mind before opting to reopen his hand and eyes.

When his eyes zoomed into focus again, a short figure stood before his desk. Grant sighed. He could’ve gone a long time before seeing that face again.

“The hell are you doing?” Walsh crossed his arms, his face twisted into that same scowl he always seemed to wear. “Meditating?”

“You shouldn’t be here, Thomas.” A small drop of blood fell onto his envelope. “Say what you need and get out.”

“That’s ‘ _Chief_ Walsh’ to you.” His voice boomed louder than normal. “Or better yet, ‘Sir’ would be great.”

Grant pushed himself out of his seat. For a brief moment he considered rounding the corner of his desk, but Grant didn’t need to get directly into Walsh’s face in order to assert his sense of dominance over him. Grant planted his hands firmly into the large cherry wood desk. Even with the two foot gap between the desk and Walsh, Grant’s tall body towered over Walsh’s. His eyes were cold, so unfamiliar. Walsh had never seen Grant’s eyes so void of joy, or of any emotion at all.

“You don’t scare me, Emerson.” Walsh took a small step back, folding his arms. “It’s about time you finally found your backbone though! Took ya long enough.”

“I’m about this close…” Grant pinched his fingers together, not leaving any space between them. “…to throwing you down my garbage chute. I suggest you start talking.” 

“The Hollidays request your presence.” Walsh stepped to the edge of the desk. “One hour. Don’t be late.”  
Holliday. That was a name Grant hadn’t heard in years, except for in his dreams every night.

“You can tell your boss I can’t be summoned.” He was about to sit back down when he suddenly heard Walsh’s hideous throaty laugh. 

“It’s funny, actually…” Chief Walsh slammed his hand alongside Grant’s. “Richard said that same thing to us before he died… _so suddenly_.”

Grant narrowed his eyes at the chief as anger flushed through him. He slowly walked around the desk, unsure of how to react. Before Tommy could realize what was about to happen Grant threw his hands out, clasping them tightly around Walsh’s throat. He lifted the chief into the air, feet kicking wildly, and then slammed him onto the desk among the clutter of paper and manila folders. With less distance between them, Grant squeezed even tighter around Walsh’s throat. His face was turning red as he attempted to pry Grant’s hands off of his throat.

Melissa, who’d finally looked up from her desk to see what all the commotion was about, came running into the office screaming. 

“Mr. Emerson! Stop!” Melissa panicked. Why was she coming to Tommy Walsh’s aide? He’d never been anything more than a prick to anyone he’s ever met, and she was included in that infinite list. “What the hell are you doing?! He’s a cop, for crying out loud!”

Grant leaned down to Walsh’s ear. 

“Now, you tell your boss and Bria…” Grant lifted Walsh slightly and slammed his head back down onto the desk. “If they want me so bad, they can come get me themselves.”

Finally, Grant released his grip of Walsh. Tommy rolled off the desk, gasping for all the air Grant had deprived him of. He coughed frantically, still not feeling like the oxygen was returning to his lungs. 

“You’re… a dead man… Emerson…” Walsh choked out as best as he could between heavy breaths. “Just like your father!”

“Melissa?” Grant, completely unfazed by Walsh’s most recent remark, glanced at his frightened assistant for the first time since she walked in. She was clutching her heart, ten feet away from the scene at Grant’s desk. “Would you be so kind to escort this poor man to the elevator? I think he’s having a little trouble catching his breath.”

“I—” Melissa shook her head, cutting herself off. “Yes, of course, Grant.”

“Great!” Grant beamed at her as if she hadn’t just witnessed the encounter between the two men. He kept a watchful eye targeted on Walsh. He knew better than to trust that Tommy Walsh, of all people, could be trusted alone with anyone in Grant’s life. He was shocked when he saw Walsh crawl into the elevator without putting up any kind of a fight. Melissa was silent on her way back to her desk, attempting and failing to process what had just happened or why Grant would attack the chief of police so suddenly. She didn’t perceive Walsh to be any more of a jackass than he usually was.

Grant turned his attention back to the envelope he’d been playing around with. He opened it up to reveal a stiff notecard with a small black outline of a rose printed on the front. It made him think of the bouquet he’d sent to Kate a few weeks prior, except this image paid special attention to the bolded thorns sticking out of the rose. Grant was so sure he’d seen that picture around somewhere recently. He was unsure of when or where, but it just felt oddly familiar. Why? The question was tugging at his mind. When nothing came to mind, he inspected every inch of the card. In small but perfectly legible cursive letters, the back of the card read “I know what you’ve been up to.” 

Grant began to tear his office apart searching for his answer. Nothing. He stormed out of his office. As he approached the elevator he called behind him for Melissa to take the rest of the day off. It was the most welcome comment she could’ve hoped for in that moment, not that Grant cared enough to take note of her newfound sense of gratitude. The only thing on his mind was that symbol. It meant something, he was aware of that much at least. Grant rushed home, itching to ease his mind of the same question burning through his head.

The moment he arrived home he began rifling through all of his files in his home office. Still, he didn’t find anything. Grant travelled from room to room until finally, he reached the room he’d been using to store the belongings Kate had left behind after she moved out of his home and out of his life. With a deep sigh, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly. He hadn’t been in there since before she left him. Grant walked in slowly as he glanced around the room. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, almost as if he’d just been _stabbed in his heart_. Every couple of minutes he’d pick up a picture of himself and Kate and reminisce about the memory it held, the emotions attached, and how happy they were together. By the time he’d reached the seventh picture frame, Grant was laughing and his eyes held tears he was struggling, and failing miserably, to keep inside. He didn’t want to cry, not in Kate’s space. 

Grant went to pick up the next picture, and that was when he saw her. Kate, Chelsea, and Amy were on his boat laughing as he navigated the open water. That wasn’t what caught his eye though. Amy’s necklace jumped out at him. She was wearing a big black rose pendant that fell at the center of her chest. It seemed to outline the symbol onto her skin, as the . The thorns were just as detailed as those on the front of the card he’d received. He held the card up next to the picture, and the two images were seemingly identical.

“Two can play this game.” He laughed humorlessly still staring at the pendant. “Let’s play, Amy.”


End file.
